Like Father, Like Son
by LordGrimwing
Summary: "But he hurts us. He beats us." The enforcer stood, looking down at the whimpering mechling. "They just seem horrible now. In time you will understand. Your sire is helping you grow into a true Praxian."


In the wee hours just before dawn, most sectors of the Searching Soul Hospital rested peacefully. Most divisions of the sprawling city of Praxis remained calm throughout the night. Thus, the mech silently working reception at the entrance of the emergency room found quite a shock when he stepped outside for a moment of fresh air. There, just beside the door, lay a mechling.

"By the spires of nyon!" The blue mech gasped, sensory wings flapping anxiously as he knelt over the mechling's still frame. "How did you get here?" He murmured, cautiously lifting the grey and yellow child up, acutely aware of the twisted winglets and leaking energon.

Back inside, the junior medical professional settled the mechling on a rolling berth, careful to not aggravate the dents and gashes while place the support harness around his chassis. Insuring the rubber straps were secure, the mech allowed the limp mechling to lay back until his wings almost touched the padded berth, then tied off the harness lead, keeping the twisted appendages from further damage. The blue and green mech pushed the berth over to his station. Keeping his gaze on the unconscious child, he rang the emergence comm, summoning his supervisor.

"He was just out by the door?" The shift manager asked, carefully inspecting the mechling's injuries. A particularly nasty gash split open the child's cheek plating.

"Yes Dasher. I initially thought a mechanimal left him here." The mech stopped, wings flicking as his teeth worried at a lip. "But, uh, those aren't mechanimal bites. Are they?"

Dasher stepped back from the berth. "No. No they're definitely mech-made." He wiped away the energon on his servos with a cloth the other handed him. "Jumpstart, I want you to report this to the enforcer. Have an officer interview the child as soon as he awakens." The supervisor turned away, continuing to talk to himself. "Letting a child wonder the city like that. His creators need quite the reprimand."

Jumpstart watch Dasher vanish around a corner before pulling up the comm line to the district's enforcer unit.

⃠⃠⃠⃠

"Where am I?" The grey and yellow mechling wiggled on the berth, nervously clutching his hands. "Who are you?" He asked, the medical harness preventing him from shrinking back from the black and white mech standing over him.

"It's all right child; I'm an enforcer." The black and white mech knelt, putting them on almost the same optic level. "You're at a hospital. You're safe."

"Oh." The mechling murmured, a fresh weld line running down his cheek. "Am I in trouble?"

"What do you mean?" The officer leaned closer at the soft words.

"Out past curfew. Sleeping outside a city building." The child flinched as the large mech rested a hand on the berth's top.

"Oh no." The enforcer smiled. "What's your name mechling?"

The child swallowed. "Singe."

"Well Singe, I can assure you that a creation your age won't be punished by the law." Singe relaxed slightly. "I will speak with your parents about this breech of conduct. If they have failed to instruct you in proper obedience of the law, then the blame rests on their shoulders, and theirs's only. However," Singe stiffened. "If they have taught you, or you went against some family rule, they will decide on a just punishment."

"Please," the mechling whispered, "Don't make me go back. He hurts me, he hurts us."

The enforcer shock his head, wings opening and closing. "Singe, Singe, Singe. A sire's duty is to prepare creations for life, teach them to obey the law, to respect. Sometimes pain is the best way to teach these things." The enforcer smiled kindly. "When you're older, you'll understand, and you'll thank your sire for what he did."

Singe's peil optics darkened. "But he _hurts_ us. H-he beats u-s." The mechling whimpered, curling in on himself, winglets clamping to his back. "H-he do-es terrib-le, ho-rrible, things to Fi-restro-rm."

The enforcer stood, looking down at the whimpering mechling. "They just seem horrible now. In time, you will understand. Your sire is helping you grow into a true Praxian."

⃠⃠⃠⃠

"Red Alert." Firestorm looked blankly down at the mechling before him. "What did I tell you this morning before you walked to your friend's house?"

The white and red mechling prostrated himself before his sire. "The Iaconian way is not the Praxian way."

"That is correct." The red and yellow mech crouched, lifting his creation's head. "We live a stricter moral code. We respect."

Red Alert nodded, his optics down cast.

"Look at me when I speak to you." Firestorm order flatly, striking his creator's sensory horns.

Red Alert gasped, optics instantly looking on his sire's.

"You did not respect our customs. You repeatedly ignore our rules." He tilted the mechling's face back into the floor. "You. Must. Learn." Firestorm stood, moving behind his prostrate creation.

Tensing, Red Alert readied himself.

"You." A ped settled on his back, pushing his chassis into the floor, halting his venting. "Cannot break." A hand wrapped around his left ped. "The law." Red Alert whined as his leg was pulled up and back. "The law." Cabling protested the strain. "Breaks." Dispassionate servos bent Red Alert ped. "You." Red Alert couldn't get breath enough to screamed as actuators in his ped snapped.

Firestorm carefully laid his creation's leg back down before reaching for the other. The process repeated. "You push against the law; the law pushes you."

The red and yellow Praxian kept his ped pressed on Red Alert's back, muting the mechling's cries as overstrained peds sent painful feedback to the child. It didn't take long for his creation to stop crying and just lay, trembling, on the floor. That was when Firestorm lifted his ped. Then, he lifted the temporarily crippled mechling in his arms, settling onto one of the living room seats.

"Have you learned what the law does?" He asked softly.

"Y-yes sire. Yes, I have learned." Red Alert whimpered. "Please, please." Tears of coolant ran down his cheeks. "Make the pain stop."

Firestorm smiled at his creation. "Pain will fade and hurts will heal." He patted the mechling's red helm. "But you'll remember this lesson. You won't ignore our customs so quickly again." He wiped away Red Alert's tears. "And when you're grown, you'll see this was one step closer to being Praxian."


End file.
